Not to get too sappy sports sentimental on you, but I recall that Game 5 win over Utah back in 2001, was it?

Calvin Booth hit the game winner in Salt Lake to lift the 7th-seeded Dallas Mavericks to the NBA's second round, where we'd get crushed by the San Antonio Spurs. I recall how grateful I was that Mark Cuban had bought this perennial laughingstock and turned them into a winner.

Several years, a tragic Finals loss and a mammoth first-round upset later, and a subsequent loss to the Hornets doesn't seem so bad. First, the New Orleans Hornets were Oklahoma City's team temporarily for two years.

We're genuinely happy to see them do well here in Oklahoma, and we'd love to see them win the whole thing. Perhaps they could have a secondary ticker-tape parade in Bricktown.

And we're getting a team here in Oklahoma City (whether Seattle yet realizes it or not), so my loyalties will be squarely on whatever we call the new franchise.

So, I shouldn't really care where the Mavs go from here, but I do. Spent way too many years taking abuse from roommates for sitting through 13-69 seasons. Celebrated the Calvin Booth gamewinner like we had just won a national title here in Norman.

Anguished over Game 3 of the 2006 Finals.

And, yet, here we are. What's next? What should be next?

Well, Cuban did fire Avery Johnson, which had to be done. Personally, I never cared for the little general, particularly after his tiff with Eddie Sefko of the DMN. Thought it was bush league.

But on the court, Avery way overthought himself. Tried tricking things up where they didn't need tricking, such as when he altered the Mavs' lineup to start the series with Golden State last year. However, tons of pundits have been through it.

To his defense, I think the system in Dallas failed him. While I'll credit Cuban with investing his money into a team that desperately needed a lift at the beginning of the decade, the Internet billionaire is also an unbearable micro-manager.

Avery always had him looking over his shoulder.

Secondly, Avery wasn't the guy who traded for Jason Kidd or who let Steve Nash go a few years back because he wasn't paying attention. Nope, that was Cuban, too.

Those two moves are most responsible for where the Mavs are at today, and there's no need to rehash 'em. They're done, and so is this franchise as it exists on April 30, 2008.

After the Golden State series last year, I insisted: You gotta blow this up. This team, as-is, will never, ever in the history of ever win a title.

This year, everybody is agreeing with me.

So, I'll give you five things that need to happen for the Dallas Mavericks to have a shot at an NBA title in three years. I say three years because they have no shot in the next two seasons for sure, and to be more realistic, I should probably say five years.

1. Josh Howard should be dismissed.

I was a fan of the Wake Forest product, and at one time thought he was the club's most promising player. You're likely aware of his marijuana admission on local radio last week, but did you hear about the birthday party?

After Dallas' Game 4 loss to New Orleans, Josh handed out invitations to his birthday party in the locker room. Down 3-1, no Mavs fan was in a mood to celebrate anything, but apparently J-Ho was.

His reaction? You only live once.

Wow. The dope made him stupid, clearly. What a bad teammate. What a cancer.

Trade him if you can, but dismiss him outright if you have to. He cannot be on this club next year. Character counts unless it's the Cowboys. Kidding aside, there are only 11 bodies on an NBA roster. Character and commitment to teamwork really does count.

2. Dump all the dumpable old guys.

I don't care what value they bring on the open market. Go get some young projects. Jerry Stackhouse, Erick Dampier, Eddie House, etc. do the club no good at this point. If Dallas is interested in leadership, bring Sam Cassell on board.

Unlike Howard, Cassell is a great teammate.

3. Plan on ways to get Jason Kidd gone.

With Jason, Dallas needs to get something of value next year. Kidd will be on the roster in 2008-09, but I suspect he could be traded next spring or in the summer of 2009.

Start daydreaming, at least, about that exit now. Figure out a way to maximize what was truly one of the bad NBA trades of the past decade.

4. Mark Cuban should make himself invisible.

Mark, buddy, we know you own the team. And in full disclosure, I have ripped this guy time and time again over the past three seasons. But on the flip side, I give him 100 percent credit for the rebirth of Mavs hoops when he bought the team.

And I'm not saying the move should be permanent. Take two or three years off while a new coach builds this team, alleviating the pressure off everyone. The Mavs are winning no titles until at least 2011-12, and even then we're probably looking at 2013-14 before realistically having a shot, IF this thing is managed right.

5. Build a balanced team on the court.

The NBA is more science than art. The Phoenix Suns style of ball ain't winning anybody a title. Likewise, the New York Knicks never won a title with their slow-down type of ugly ball back in the 1990s.

A championship NBA team needs a go-to guy, and unfortunately, Dirk Nowitzki is not that. He's a No. 2, although I disagree that the Mavs necessarily need a great guard to make him better. Dallas simply needs a go-to guy, a winner. A clutch shot. A vocal leader.

A championship NBA team has great role players. Specifically, the Mavs need a defensive center who won't get posterized on a regular basis while understanding that scoring is vital to winning. The Mavs need a bruiser, like a Bruce Bowen, like an Eduardo Najera, a nuisance on the court.

Given what Cuban was able to do with this franchise when he bought it, supposing he hires a capable basketball coach and, perhaps, upgrades his player-personnel staff (time for Donnie Nelson to go, too?), I think a pair of 24-58 seasons wouldn't be so bad.

Orlando had to suck to get Dwight Howard. Cleveland had to suck to get Lebron James. Perhaps the Mavs need a season or two of sucking hard instead of going halfway.

Yes, my remedies for the most part are simple and vague, but my guess is that Dallas will land a re-tread coach like a Jeff VanGundy or a Rick Carlisle and that Cuban will stay super involved with everything.

And all I'm suggesting is that the Dallas Mavericks have to find a way to adhere to the pretty clear NBA on-the-court formula for success while innovating in a manner that allows them to achieve it much sooner rather than later.

Trust me. It will take some magical Mark Cuban innovation for this thing to work anytime soon.

One of the best acts in music was in Oklahoma City on Tuesday, and no it wasn't Kanye West.

It was the opening act on a card featuring three of them. If only I could have paid $10 to go see Pharrell Williams' side project called N*E*R*D, I would have.

But, no, I would have had to pay $75 to see them and Lupe Fiasco (who apparently did not perform due to illness) and Rihanna and Kanye, and while it would have been a great scene, I suspect, to me, the best music would have come at the very beginning.

Influenced heavily by groups like Steely Dan and The Police, N*E*R*D takes that funk and rock vibe and twists it into something unique, entertaining and utterly competent. I've pushed N*E*R*D on anybody who will listen, and I will again today.

Here are two of my favorites, the first being "Things Are Getting Better" and the second being "The Way She Dances."

I've argued for years that between 2002-2006, there was no better produced television program on Earth than American Idol. However, Tuesday's episode was a mess.

And it's symptomatic not just of bad luck or accident, but of a trend that signifies either laziness or ineptitude.

Idol producers decided to alter its format a bit this week, not by having singers in the Top 5 sing two songs -- that's common -- but by having the judges judge them after both were done.

What you, the home viewer, don't know is that there is a "rehearsal" right before the show, and the judges for the most part formulate their remarks based on the rehearsal performance if they're there. And, this week, Paula gives that away by critiquing Jason Castro on both of his performances after only one.

In a panic, host Ryan Seacrest -- suddenly looking 35 -- stopped to correct her, guiding her toward a path of (sobriety?) clarity regarding her comments.

Simon looked at her as if he expected it, like he would have if she had just shot up heroin.

If Idol is truly headed downward not only in terms of ratings but also within the realm of pop culture, it's off to a train-wreck of a start, perhaps aspiring to be the Judy Garland of television shows.

That could make it all the more entertaining.

Beyond Paula's slip-up at the midway point of the show, it truly seems again this season as if all the judges are mailing it in. At times I think Randy Jackson is the only one staying true to himself, sticking with judging vocals.

Unfortunately, he rarely even looks interested anymore.

With Simon, you wonder what his motivation is, such as tonight when he suggested Syesha Mercado was in trouble. On this show, to those of us who follow it closely, that is Cowell's signal to coax callers into voting.

It was essentially him saying, "You absolutely deserve to be here, and I am going to say you're in trouble to wake people up."

Evidence? After two hours on dialidol.com, Syesha held the top spot in its Top 5 predictions, based on phone traffic, and Mercado's performances were hardly worthy.

Long run, I'm not sure what Simon's motivation would be although I don't think it is as sinister as him trying to ensure that a big seller wins the competition for the purpose of his profit, not that it would even be sinister to do so. If that were his motivation, in retrospect, wouldn't he have stepped in and proclaimed Chris Daughtry the God of light and power two seasons ago?

No?

In my opinion, the show has outlived their usefulness. Idol execs were looking for input from viewers regarding the show, and there you have mine. It needs major refreshening at the host level.

Neither Simon nor Paula nor Randy looks interested. They act as if this gig is being taken for granted, and they have become boring and predictable, as Cowell might say. Unfortunately, I don't think it's their fault.

The show's producers have failed to switch this puppy up enough over the past four seasons. It's the same format, the same shtick, the same lame Ford or Coca-Cola commercials, the same cringe-inducing singalongs, the same terrible band arrangements.

And the blame for that probably should ascend to Nigel Lythgoe, who probably decided not to tweak anything about the show because it was all working so swimmingly. I can't argue with that.

But then there are the performances.

Yikes. This has happened over the past couple of seasons, and it's this phenomenon of contestants clearly being "over it" by about the Final 7. Brooke White looks like she'd rather be hit over the head with a frying pan than perform another week. She rushes through songs and performs to avoid messing it up, as opposed to making it great.

She's not the only one. Castro clearly would like to be anywhere else than that stage (smoking a blunt?). And when that's apparent to the public, then why should we be interested?

Perhaps I'm wrong. If so, again, I'd blame it on production because it sure as heck appears that way. In fact, Idol production has become so predictable and blase that every music or talent competition show out there pretty much picks up on the Idol format.

Recently, The New York Post put together its list of the 35 greatest shows on TV -- EVER. And predictably, Idol was in the Top 5.

While I disagree with their top pick (The Sopranos was highly overrated. I would have picked Seinfeld.), I would have placed Idol second. It was a masterful concept, a trend-setter, a pop culture icon, a ratings nightmare for its competition and a cash cow.

However, as Tuesday night's disaster of show signified, Idol has turned into a mess. Change or die. That is the challenge.

Five left. And they all think they have a chance.

American Idol's 7th season is winding down with more of a whimper than a bang, particularly if you've seen the ratings. Still the best ratings on TV, but it's clear changes are a must. Or it's clear Idol only has a handful of seasons left.

But these three young men and two young women still singing their hearts out for America's votes all believe they have a shot to win this competition. And they'd be dead wrong.

Only David Archuleta and David Cook have any shot at all to win Idol in 2008. Nevertheless, I have five scenarios for the Final 5, the only viable scenarios remaining this season -- ranked in order from least likely to most likely.

5. Syesha Mercado sneaks into a finale against David Archuleta.

I call this the Diana DeGarmo scenario. In Season 3, DeGarmo weathered Jennifer Hudson and LaToya London to back into a finale spot versus eventual winner, Fantasia Barrino.

Should Brooke White or Jason Castro be eliminated this week, doubtful given that this is Neil Diamond week (surely spelling the end for Mercado), we're left with a scenario that next week isn't one custom fit for frontrunner David Cook.

The shockers happen in 4th place, right? Tamyra Gray. Chris Daughtry.

At that point, Syesha would be in a three-way competition with Archuleta and either Brooke or Jason, a massive edge come the week that Clive Davis picks a song. With only three left, singers get to sing two of their best and belt a monster ballad, and it's a position suited to Syesha.

Don't think she makes it past this week, but if she does, watch out. I absolutely could see her in a finale, getting waxed by David Archuleta. But I could see other scenarios even more.

4. Jason Castro sneaks into a finale against David Cook.

Let's say Syesha and Brooke go down in order the next two weeks and fans of those two blame their respective demise on the little one, tiny Mr. Archuleta. Let's say they collude to vote for the underdog in the Final 3.

In my scenario, this would be Jason Castro, and I call it the Blake Lewis scenario. Lewis had no business knocking out Melinda Doolittle last year but did, and one of the big reasons why was because fans of ousted contestants swung votes to the underdog in the Final 3.

It wouldn't matter as Cook would destroy Jason in a finale.

3. Castro backs into finale against Archuleta.

In this scenario, which I call the Bo Bice scenario, the super original long-hair steps it up just enough in the wake of a major upset (which would have to be Cook's ouster) to grab his piece of a finale.

Let's say Jason does a song in the Final 3 with just vocal and guitar and no strings, no synths, nothing but the raw talent. I say he has a shot.

Nonetheless, it wouldn't matter come finale week as Archuleta would manhandle him in the voting.

2. David Cook beats David Archuleta in the finale -- or -- 1. David Archuleta beats David Cook in the finale.

These last two scenarios are by far the most likely, and it would all depend on song choice. Bottom line is that if David Archuleta sings "Imagine" as his final song in the finale, he wins.

End of story.

But if David Cook belts out Chris Cornell's version of "Billie Jean" or Doxology's version of "Eleanor Rigby," then he has a shot.

The key is in who goes last.

Like the Romans were back in the day, we Idol viewers are pretty easily swayed. And should the winner of that coin flip choose to go first, it would equal the mistake made by Brutus at Caesar's funeral when he gave Mark Antony the floor.

Regardless, in all likelihood, that twosome will be the two Davids.

And I think who wins at this point could come down to who sings last.

If you want a glimpse into how pop culture has changed the mainstream media, look no further than the hubbub surrounding Miley Cyrus and her photos in Vanity Fair, a spread including a photo in which she appears to be topless.

This story made the national television news, and I don't mean merely a spot on Headline News or in the entertainment report. ABC and NBC picked it up, and I do believe NBC News had it in the first 15 minutes of its Monday nightly news.

Right or wrong?

On this issue, I say absolutely producers were right to include the story because at this point Cyrus isn't merely a 15-year-old child, she's a $1B entity. She's an entertainment commodity, and furthermore, her actions speak a lot about the state of pop culture as it plays a role in being a teenager.

I'm not sure that national news shows Monday allowed for time to develop those topics past what 1:00 would allow; however, my guess is that there's a ton of parents thinking to themselves ... Crap.

On the other hand, I'm a natural-born cynic. I think Hannah Montana will be pregnant by 18, max, if not sooner. I think the world will celebrate her motherdom, and she'll continue to explode with money. She might get involved with drugs and turn into what Britney Spears has become -- a running joke.

What has to be a serious problem for average-Joe moms and dads though is in dealing with the parallels between a pop culture icon and their own kids. Back in my day, parents weren't left to watch whatever we kids watched on television.

The remote control (or the television penis, as I call it) belonged to my dad.

Therefore, on a Friday night, I watched Washington Week In Review and Wall Street Week, waiting just long enough for Dad to get throat-deep into his first snore before I stole the remote to watch The Dukes of Hazzard.

However, in our day, there wasn't the breadth of tweenage and teenage programming that there is now. And that programming is really excellent for kids that age. I'm not sure that it would have been my thing if I had grown up in this era, but kidows in their early teens have a veritable pop culture market all to themselves.

It's their world, and parents merely live in it. And that, I think, is the center of the issue. Parents aren't being parents anymore, choosing instead to be indirectly ruled by their children instead of the way it should be -- the other way around.

On the other hand, was the VF spread that bad? That risque? That creepy?

I wouldn't know because I have no urge to see it. What I did see of the topless photo, with Miley all covered up in a sheet, made me think the magazine was producing a spread for the purpose of attracting pedophiles.

And I saw the creepy photo of Miley and her dad, Billy Ray Cyrus, which was technically clean but a tad creepy. According to Whoopi Goldberg, who is familiar with the work of photographer Annie Leibovitz and spoke about this on The View today, family and representatives got to review every single frame shot.

Everybody in the Miley Cyrus camp was in the know.

It could make one all the more cynical because, my friends, this was no accident. It was a business decision, and it was a brilliant marketing move, once again focusing the attention on a billionaire princess whose actual cultural contribution to the world is minimal at best long term.

However, while I'm a tad jaded at times, I know this business from a pop culture perspective. There can be mistakes, but there are few accidents.

On the flip side though, I definitely empathize for anybody who's got a teenage daughter, not so much for the magazine spread but for what almost certainly comes next in the life and times of Miley Cyrus.

I'm sure Norman, Okla., has had bigger concerts (Jimi Hendrix, Rolling Stones to name a few), but I doubt it's had better.

The Polyphonic Spree, a 23-piece symphonic rock choir came to historic downtown Norman for a two-hour celebration of music and performance, part of our first-ever Norman Music Festival, which looked and felt as if it was a giant success generally.

However, I'm guilty as can be for underestimating the Spree, a group whose first major CD I bought three years ago but had never taken the time to see live.

Wow, that was a mistake. Tim DeLaughter's brainchild is meant to be seen in person. The Polyphonic Spree is one half rock show and one half church choir gone mad, and frankly there was more charisma on that stage than I've ever seen in a performance anywhere, anytime by anybody.

For all I wrote about the Chainsaw Kittens and various other bands appearing in our Oklahoma paradise on Saturday, I should have spent every second imploring you to come see the Spree.

Dressed in pseudo Army outfits for the first part of the show, The Polyphonic Spree played a lot of its initial hits, many of which I didn't get to hear because I was helping Toad get his festival-sitting equipment (i.e., chairs) back to his house, less than a half-mile from the festivities.

However, I was sure to return, and I got back in time to see them perform the Paul McCartney classic, "Live and Let Die." This YouTube clip from another user is better than the video I took, although I might try to get that posted soon as well.

The Polyphonic Spree is primarily known for original music in terms of its repertoire; however, they paid homage to Wayne Coyne of The Flaming Lips and, I hear, they're working in a ton of Tripping Daisy songs. Daisy was DeLaughter's original band before going on hiatus to run Good Records near downtown Dallas.

Speaking of covers, they showed off their version of Nirvana's classic, "Lithium," and again, instead of inflicting my poor video on you, I'll show you a better online version of the performance, this time from a fan in Atlanta.

However, it's the group's originals and originality that have fans worldwide hooked. At one point, thinking the show was over but prepared for an encore, I see the entire group in white robes -- different from the military outfits they wore through the first part of the gig -- running through the audience to get back to the stage.

I was literally next to them as they ran by, and I'm thinking, "How cool would it be to be part of The Polyphonic Spree?"

Do they need an extra piano player?

What has me excited is that it seems as if the Spree isn't a one-hit wonder. The music I've heard on the band's new album, The Fragile Army, is better than what's on its previous albums, including "Running Away."

However, my favorite thus far from what is actually the Spree's third album is "We Crawl," whose video gives people a glimpse at the people who make up the band.

What makes this group tick with fans though is the live performance, and I am pretty sure I've never seen a better live performance. We're lucky in Norman that this was a free gig, and I definitely hope The Polyphonic Spree will consider a return at some point.

But even if you have to drop some hefty dollars, I can't encourage you enough to go see The Polyphonic Spree in person.

And there we were, Toad and I, marveling over the perverted sadness that was the flipper midget.

It was probably 2003 or thereabouts, and the city of Denton outsourced its historic Fry Street Fair, typically held the third weekend of each April, to the city of Dallas and specifically to Deep Ellum.

Sacrilege.

While Toad and I enjoy nothing more than imbibing to the sound of good rock and roll, neither of us has ever been particularly fond of what I fondly call the "explosive diarrhea" music scene, comprised of bands playing as loudly as possible for the sole purpose of making as much noise as possible.

I had pre-advertised Fry Street to him as this collection of eccentricity, part indie, part jazz, the very best of what the University of North Texas has to offer the musical world. My first trip to Denton back in 1996, I saw street musicians -- one by one -- over the course of an hour walk in and out, interchangeably, to form this terrific jazz-slash-dixieland-slash-funk group.

Depending on who walked in and out at the time.

Heck, the first time in Denton was like a seminal experience typically reserved for high schoolers. By that time, I was 26 and already awash in the professional world. But by 2 a.m., I was the object of T-back's affection.

T-back was likely her professional name, if you catch my drift. While I can think of many creative possibilities for that inference, I would only suggest that T-back liked to have a good time and that perhaps, on this early Saturday morning, she had had too much of one.

What had been an ordinary evening in a foreign town for my buddy Brian and I became startlingly interesting when T-back mistook me for her boyfriend. Or perhaps husband. Cohabitant. Study buddy. Her sponsor.

She ran over to my table at a bar called Cool Beans and literally started making out with me on the spot. And if it weren't for the fact that I'm a germaphobe, I might have let her continue. I'm game. But there was also the scene outside Cool Beans only 30 minutes before this when I am pretty sure I saw her expel dinner into a trash can.

Alas, she mentioned an after-party, not so much to invite Brian and me but to make it known to people around her that drinking would continue well into the wee morning hours and that all we'd need to do is bring it.

So, the B boy and I brought it.

We bought a case of white-trash domestic and waltzed into the first house with music blaring, presuming ourselves welcome. Awkwardly enough, we walked in right about the time the police arrived.

The cops were concerned about the noise, which I found odd considering there were multiple homes within the college district in Denton where bands were playing on porches. At 3 a.m. nonetheless.

My concern was that whoever owned this house would think the black and whites were our doing. That's where beer comes into play. We brought it and intended to share it, this act of giving being the primary college-town manuever of friendship.

Turned out the home dwellers were three co-eds, two of which were without boyfriends, girlfriends, husbands or life partners. The third was particularly proud of her boyfriend's genitalia, which she showed off throughout the night, unsolicited.

Hell, I'm not sure if he was even aware of it.

God love Denton.

However, Brian and I managed to strike up a conversation with the two singles, talking them up until 6 a.m. before deciding we really, really, really needed to get back home. I do believe we even got phone numbers, probably the product of us having real-world jobs, which surely made us viable procreative commodities.

But it was the getting of the phone number thing that surely made us both want, make that insist, on returning the next night for the second day of the fair.

That is if we could ever freaking make it home.

From Denton, we ended up in Bedford and then in Fair Park, east of downtown Dallas, and then in the Cotton Bowl parking lot as sunrise hit.

Dude, that's not the place to be at sunrise.

My excuse was that I was completely new to the Dallas area. I'm not sure what his was.

But we made it home to Richardson -- and for those of you who know DFW, you can surely appreciate how circuitous this path was, from Denton to Bedford to downtown Dallas to Richardson. We could have just driven to El Paso, on to San Antonio and back up through Corsicana.

Slumber was pleasant but brief, for me at least. Once the sun's up, I have a hard time trying to initiate anything that could result in eight full hours of sleep. Besides, I was really excited about getting back to Denton, which was always the closest thing to Norman available in the Metroplex.

***

Given that Toad is a happily married man, we didn't prowl for women when Fry Street came to Dallas in 2003. We're much more obnoxious than that; we talked about them as they passed by. Hell, we talked about everybody. Sat atop a joint called The Bone, where I played gigs many a time, people-watching for hours.

Unfortunately, the music just blew chunks. The Dallas version of Fry Street was more awash in pop-metal acts and rock poseurs. Dishwalla was a headliner, and I think Bowling For Soup (a band I do like) was there, so I'm told. I don't actually remember seeing them.

However, the highlight of the entire evening was witnessing a midget who wore flippers lying on his back upon a skateboard. I'm not sure that my long-term memory is that awesome, but I think his M.O. was to skate around looking up women's skirts.

OK, maybe the poor li'l fellow really needed the skateboard to get around. Maybe I'm crass.

Or maybe the flipper midget simply had quite the ruse working.

***

And that brings us to this weekend, the first-ever Norman Music Festival. It runs Saturday-only from noon until 11 p.m., and its headliners include The Polyphonic Spree and a reunited Chainsaw Kittens.

The scene, musically, at least on the main stage seems to be much more indie than what could be found at Fry Street, which I hope means an interesting crowd. Fry Street was always a scene.

However, to the festival's credit, they have blues artists and instrumentalists, including one of my neighbors, the uber-talented Ivan Pena, a gypsy-jazz guitarist.

My schedule on Saturday is such that I might not get to attend but the last six hours or so of the event. However, a few of the bands I'm looking forward to the most include those Chainsaw Kittens, whose place in Norman's rock history is firmly cemented.

According to wikipedia, Tyson Meade also led a band called Defenestration, which means one thing and one thing only to OU alums.

He must have taken a history course with Dr. James Goldsmith.

Defenestration is the act of throwing somebody out of a window, typically an act of political violence. Alas, Goldsmith was fond of it, and while I presume Tyson might merely be a well-read individual, Dr. Goldsmith was super fond about talking about defenestration.

I've already mentioned the Spree in another post, I do believe, so I'll skip onward to a couple of the other interesting bands. There's British Sea Power, which has kind of an Euro-pop sound a la The Cure or any of a number of other 1980s bands.

There's the general weirdness of Austin's own The Octopus Project, an instrumental band whose schtick it is for each bandmember to periodically switch instruments.

Norman's own Evangelicals will be playing as will Norman staple Camille Harp, but perhaps the act I'm most interested in seeing hails from Stillwater.

They're called Colourmusic, the product of a friendship between OSU students several years ago. The group comes with the recommendation of The Flaming Lips, and this group's schtick is to have a different theme for each show.

According to the encyclopedia of our generation, wikipedia, they might have family night, where each band member role plays as a father, mother or child, complete with dress wearing or whatever might be required.

However, of all the bands I listened to on YouTube, it was their music, their style I liked the best. Very intriguing, but given their 3 p.m. start, I'm doubting I'll get to see them.

That's OK. In the long run, for me, it's less about a weelend of great music and more about the scene, anyway.

Heck, maybe the flipper midget will make the trip.

Some musicians throw everything that comes to them against the wall, hoping for success, hoping for praise but content merely to experiment.

Paul Davis made the absolute most of his gift.

The soft rock icon of the 1970s and early 1980s died today, and while he had only a handful of hits, every one of them was brilliant. From the perspective of a vocalist, a musician, a songwriter, the long-haired Mississippian was great at creating great music.

Considering I was never even near a radio until 1982, 12 years into my young life, it was understandable that I had yet to hear of "I Go Crazy," which set the standard for chart consistency back in 1977, staying something like 40 weeks on Billboard's Hot 100.

However, Tammi Zwirtz was sure I'd remember "65 Love Affair.

No, she and I did not have a love affair in the sixth grade. My infatuation, as the entire city of Muskogee knew, was clearly on one Heather Casey. On the other hand, Tammi was really good at roller skating, and I recall that she really liked this song.

It's funny how memories get lodged in our brains, but for 26 years, I have associated Davis' 1982 hit with somebody I only knew for a handful of months. And with reference to something (skating) that I cannot do at all.

And neither of these had anything to do with "Freeze Frame," by the J. Geils Band, which is the actual all-time best skating song ever. For people who know how to skate.

When I saw that Davis had really, really long hair, I had this sense of dissonance about him, like it wasn't quite right. Most of his music, I could tell at even this young age, had a soulful element to it, much like contemporaries like Kenny Loggins and Leon Russell and, heck, even Dan Fogelberg.

As I got older and especially today, I realize how stupid it is to pigeonhole how somebody should look relative to his or her style of music. However, that's just maturity taking hold.

What never changed over the years though is my appreciation of Davis' music, in particular a song from that same year, 1982, that got to No. 11 on the Billboard charts. "Cool Night" was a staple on Tulsa's KRAV 96.5 for years and on favorites playlists I'd put together.

Love how he just kept on changing keys at the end of this. However, it was never Davis' complexities that attracted fans worldwide, it was his simplicity. He kept music simple and soulful.

Loved Fogelberg, but he most certainly got his due and his tributes and whatnot after he passed. This guy, Paul Davis, I fear not enough folks will even notice he's gone.

So, thought I'd do my part to ensure Google search gets a big blog dosage of the late and definitely great Paul Davis.

Oklahoma is looking for an official rock-n-roll song, a state rock tune. By commission of the Oklahoma Historical Society, lawmakers today approved a proposal that calls for the society to take nominations and then put the songs up to a vote of the people.

There will be a process by which an approved panel would narrow the list down to 10 finalists. We the people would vote on it from Sept. 1 through Nov. 15, and it would then be put forth to the Legislature in 2009.

The official Oklahoma rock song.

What shall it be? A lot of the hip, alternative crowd would point to the Flaming Lips, and to that, I say a hearty "right on," but for me, they're just not popular enough. Not mainstream enough. Not even rock enough.

I absolutely think the state rock song of Oklahoma should be a tune recognizable by at least 60 percent of the populus. However, upon initial research, I could not really find much in the way of a tie between Oklahoma and rock-n-roll.

Not an obvious one. Our ties are with country music, mostly, although I suppose we could nominate Chris Gaines, the rock alter ego to Garth Brooks. I kid. I still say that was the best album Garth ever did.

However, there is a duo whose ties to both Oklahoma and to the roots of rock-n-roll are so pure that I think immediately to them when I think of rock-n-roll's history in the Sooner State.

That's right. I think of Hoyt Axton and his momma, Mae Boren Axton. And while I'm sure the OHS will get plenty of terrific nominations, I already have my three -- all with a tie to the Axton family tree and, therefore, to Oklahoma.

No. 3: "Joy To The World" -- Three Dog Night

Penned by Hoyt Axton, this has the temperment of a song I think most Oklahomans could get behind. It's happy. It's fun. It's definitely rock, and Oklahomans have been singing this at karaoke bars for the past 20 years.

No. 2: "Heartbreak Hotel" -- Elvis

Written by Hoyt's mother, this tune skyrocketed Elvis Presley to fame. I'm not sure the downer sentiment will fly with voters, the whole bluesy heartbreak vibe, but there is a major historical tie between Oklahoma and this song.

No. 1: "Never Been To Spain" -- Three Dog Night

First, this is technically a country song. However, Three Dog Night is a classic rock band, with a bit of West Coast country before the Eagles made that sound come alive.

However, read along with the words. I can only choose to interpret what Hoyt might have meant when he wrote, Well, I never been to heaven ... but I been to Oklahoma, and it's one of my favorite lyrics in all of music.

If it were totally up to me, this would be the official Oklahoma rock song:

Now, there is no rule that the rock song has to have anything to do with Oklahoma or have any tie to the state, but my hunch is that the historical society would prefer if the song had some element about it related to our state.

With that said, is there somebody obvious I'm missing? Besides Hanson and All-American Rejects? On a more serious note, how about Leon Russell or Elvin Bishop?

I could vote for Tight Rope ...

How about a little one-and-one: One great old song, one great new song.

On the old school tip comes a one-hit wonder whose 1990 hit, I think, was one of the best pop songs of the decade. Musically, it is perfect and extremely soulful. In fact, the turnaround at 3:03 of this video makes me go atwitter.

Whatever that means. It's Jane Child's "Don't Want TO Fall In Love:"

On the new side of the musical universe comes a predictable machine of an artist, Madonna. By this time, 25 years after she first hit the big time, she should have worn out, or perhaps we should have grown completely tired of her.

However, Madonna's pop music is as relevant as pretty much anybody's in the industry. Her latest single, "4 Minutes To Save The World," is pretty much bad ass. Not sure if it's Timbaland's beat mastery or the urgency of the chorus with the Rocky Balboa horns on top, but this track demands you turn it up in the car, you hit the floor at the club, etc.

Not to sound obtuse, but I'm pretty sure there was a reason behind naming the film Michael Clayton after its primary character. It's a character study deluxe, a thoughtful, moralistic achievement that is at once confusing as heck plot-wise and rich in every other way.

George Clooney plays Michael Clayton, who is a self-proclaimed bag man, a fixer of bad situations. He's also a gambling addict, deep in the hole relative to a bar he tried to open. I'm not too sure.

However, Michael Clayton is a moral man, and the death of his colleague (Tom Wilkinson), who suffers a mental breakdown associated with manic depression and is eventually murdered, sets him off along a path of righteousness -- no longer able to ignore the moral wrong inflicted by his law firm, which is in cahoots with a company that produced a carcinogenic herbicide.

Without giving too much away, Wilkinson was a laywer for the firm representing U-North and at some point, fueled by his refusal to stay on his depression meds, he realizes that he's defending a scumbag company. He strips naked in the middle of a videotaped deposition.

You read that right, and Wilkinson's character followed that path all the way to hell, slain by hooligans representing U-North.

How we get from Point B to Point A to Point C (it's one of those movies that starts close to the end and then goes back to the beginning only to re-pass the original point and finish) is what's a tad confusing.

This seems to be a trend with Clooney films, particularly Syriana, which I found to be both a bore and a cluster. However, what I can say with confidence is that he's approaching greatness. Close, oh, so close. George Clooney makes any movie he's in better.

Michael Clayton is a man resigned to the sorry state of the world, resigned to the notion that he sucks as an attorney but has this gift for doing the firm's dirty work, which pays handsomely. He is a man resigned to the notion that he'll never be completely cured of his addiction.

But he's a man whose pecadilloes don't preclude him from understanding basic moral righteousness and being able to act on it when need be. And although Clayton probably spent a career doing the dirty work of a firm that represents dirty companies, perhaps we can presume that in his role as "fixer," he had never been presented with such a clear moral choice.

I enjoyed this from the perspective of it being a film that made me think about character development. If you watch it from the point of view that this movie is 100 percent about this character, I think you'll love it.

However, the marketingspeak on the cover of the DVD called this film a "gripping thriller," and that it was not. It was a solid thriller in the vain of a Grisham movie, only smarter.

In the category of big screen character studies, this was near brilliant.

Would I watch it again? If you cooked me dinner, yes. But I probably wouldn't actively, purposefully watch it again.

Would you buy the DVD? No.

Mark your calendars for Sept. 13, Sooners fans. Oklahoma's trip to Seattle, Wash., to face the Washington Huskies just became significantly more interesting.

The NBA approved the relocation of the Seattle Sonics to Oklahoma City, pending the resolution of litigation between team owner and fellow Oklahoman Clay Bennett, the city of Seattle, Sonics' season-ticket holders and former club owner and coffee entrepreneur, Howard Schultz.

Schultz is suing Bennett with the hope of finding a judge loosy-goosy enough to rescind a sale that happened two years ago. Even the most optimistic of lawyers-who-happen-to-double-as-Sonics-fans say that Schultz' burden of proof is staggering and that he stands virtually no chance of winning.

Season-ticket holders have filed a class-action lawsuit against Bennett's LLC on the premise that they bought tickets under the assumption that the team would be in Seattle permanently. And the city of Seattle, spearheaded by Mayor Greg Nickels, is suing to enforce the lease at Key Arena -- not for the purpose of anything but to buy time in hopes of annoying Bennett to the point of giving up.

***

On Thursday afternoon, I got a call at work from a young woman named Monica Guzman, and she identified herself as being with the Seattle Post-Intelligencer. She didn't say whether she was its circulation manager, janitor or what; however, I later learned she is the paper's online reporter, the primary content manager, if you will, for what seattlepi.com calls The Big Blog

Very nice newspaper site blog, by the way, and Guzman's work is stellar. I definitely checked her out online later on. Graduated from Bowdoin College, does on-air reports for KOMO and can even sing a pretty mean version of "Here Comes The Rain Again," by the Eurythmics.

Her line of questioning pertained to koco.com's sports section, where we list "Sonics" as a local team and had since Bennett bought the team. The local team section, and it definitely could be called something else, also includes teams from Texas and Missouri with absolutely no affiliation to the Sooner State other than interest.

I was sure to be polite and clear about our intentions, which were to make information available in the most logical place possible for the purpose of usability and not to insult anybody in the Emerald City.

And that's the truth, really.

What I was sure not to say was, "What do you care? Your basketball team IS coming to Oklahoma as sure as the sun will rise tomorrow."

However, in the back of mind, I absolutely thought it.

And that's the truth, really.

My prediction is that litigation will never come to pass, except perhaps on the behalf of ticket owners. The city of Seattle cannot possibly be so inept as to ensure the NBA never returns there on account of pride and hurt feelings.

Even fiscally, the city of Seattle has to reorder its priorities for the purpose of ensuring the most advantageous outcome. If the city is in fact guilty of scheming to "bleed the Oklahomans" through a course of litigation, we then move beyond the civil to the potentially criminal. Extortion is a crime.

And it's this pattern of ineptitude with which NBA and its commissioner David Stern are so darned frustrated. The association told them long ago that Key Arena was not suitable as-is, not so much because of the quality of the infrastructure but moreso because of its "footprint," which I do believe means its physical size and capacity to hold suites and offices and things that generate revenue.

During a news conference on Friday, Stern was quick to note that he wasn't an expert with regard to the exact nature of Key Arena's unworthiness, only to remind reporters that the NBA had been through this with the city enough to make the exercise of even talking about mind-numbingly frustrating.

However, I'm no expert as to arena footprints, either. What I do know is that one cordial Seattle fan wrote me to say that the fans in Seattle absolutely love Key Arena. While he didn't spell it out this way, I suspect he was suggesting that its charm, its location made it a fan favorite.

From a business perspective, I'm not sure what that has to do with anything -- what the fans think of the arena. It's irrelevant.

What happened during the early part of the 2000s and most certainly once Clay took the team over in 2006 was that the city of Seattle and the state Legislature in Olympia, Wash., could never get it together to the point that funds could be approved and allocated by deadline toward an arena, whether it be an acceptable-to-all-parties renovation to Key or a new stadium out of town, like in Renton, Wash.

The key here is that the NBA and Bennett gave everybody a deadline, a deadline imposed after Schultz sold the team on the basis of his resignation from having to deal with a city and state government that could never come together for a plan that meshed with the will of the people with regard to an arena.

That's right, the will of the people.

Sonics fans have a rich history in Seattle, 41 years worth. However, not everybody in that metro area is a giant basketball junkie, nor are they supportive of mass public funding for sports properties -- particularly in the face of new baseball and football locales, built on taxpayer dimes.

Complicated, right?

To the outsider who reads espn.com this afternoon to find out the Sonics got the OK to move and who knows nothing about the history of this process and with the NBA's frustration with Seattle, they immediately think: "Carpetbagger! Bennett's stealing this team and moving them to Oklahoma! How dare he rob the 12th largest market in the country of its precious basketball team!"

But to the insider, the average Washington resident who had the opportunity to lobby his or her lawmaker about this, who had the chance to do what it takes to ensure the Sonics would stay, minds were made up not on Friday but long ago.

Seattle said goodbye to the Sonics even before Bennett bought the team by indirect but absolute will of the people.

To litigate now, to make proposals now is tantamount to attempting to inbound the ball after the clock hits :00 for one last shot. All the e-mails in the world from club executives don't make up for the years of paperwork and evidence on behalf of the team and the NBA relative to their good-faith efforts to keep the team there.

Alas, my prediction is that somebody with good sense in Washington will sit down with Clay and workout an appropriate buyout that not only allows him to get out of the Key Arena lease and move to Oklahoma City but also allows the city of Seattle save face with the possibility of getting another team someday.

***

However, the reporter's call to me on Thursday made me realize something very integral to this story. Nobody in Washington had been paying attention to this story, to the dilemma of its basketball team, to the very real possibility of the Sonics bolting for a smaller market.

The NBA has been thriving in smaller markets for many, many years, the one professional league to excel at developing the untapped, one-team market. Take the San Antonio Spurs, for example. Or the Utah Jazz. Even the Portland Trail Blazers. The Orlando Magic.

The response to the story and even, perhaps, the way her story idea came about also caused me to realize that Seattlites and Washingtonians, perhaps, have come to take the impending departure of its team very personally.

They blame Clay Bennett, personally, but oddly enough don't reserve much disdain for government leaders there. I'm pretty sure they still don't care for Schultz, even in light of his 11th-hour lawsuit. However, they also blame Oklahoma City and Oklahoma.

In the past 48 hours, we've been called Dust Bowlers (echoed by Dallas Mavericks' owner Mark Cuban), hicks, rednecks and worse. One e-mailer contacted us today to suggest we take the dip out of our mouths and get out of our trailer homes long enough to &%$^# ourselves.

They don't want to know about Oklahoma City's local leaders working with state leaders, who both worked with the community to put forth a plan to bring a team, any team, to OKC. They don't want to acknowledge business leaders, sports leaders and the city of Tulsa for stepping up to the plate in partnership roles when it came time to wow the NBA.

And make no mistake: Oklahoma City didn't merely do well enough to convince team owners on that relocation sub-committee that our market (OKC and Tulsa combined) would be able to handle an NBA franchise, we wowed them.

For those of you who don't know, Oklahoma City is a future major hub in the Southwestern part of the United States, what I'd call the Phoenix of the region. In 1970, Phoenix was Oklahoma City, and now it's a Top 5, Top 6 American city in terms of population.

First, our economy is booming, and it's not just about oil. It's about energy and aviation and bio-technology. The reason why is simple: Our cost-of-living is low. Our property costs are low. And our current leadership, at both the city and state level, really have it together.

Furthermore, Oklahomans have a ton of disposable income for these very same cost-of-living reasons, and we just happen to be sports nuts. When the Hornets were in Oklahoma City for those two years post-Hurricane Katrina, the Ford Center was packed.

***

So, what does this have to do with the Sept. 13 Washington-OU game? That will be the first chance for the city of Seattle to collectively take out its frustration on the entire state of Oklahoma. And don't think for a second that they don't view this situation as Seattle vs. Oklahoma City and, in fact, the entire state of Oklahoma.

We're not sure why. All the city did was do what the NBA asked it to do, and all we Oklahomans did was do what city and state leaders asked us to do: Vote our conscience.

Did we want an NBA team? Vote yes for X.

However, the tens of thousands of fans in Husky Stadium on Sept. 13 will be out for blood, and it's a mood that will not be lost on Washington's media or, more important, its coaches and players. It will be their one and only shot for revenge.

Because all this talk about litigation and rescinding sales and "bleeding the Oklahomans" will soon give way to diplomacy, negotiation and resignation on the part of city and state leaders, looking to save face and to get the best financial buyout possible.

That leaves Sept. 13. And with all the high hopes OU has for a great football season this year, Bob Stoops and company need to be fully aware of the unique time-bomb that awaits them.

One week into MTV's new (hit?) show Rock The Cradle, and I'm convinced the world is near its end. Are we completely out of ideas?

Alas, the musical talent competition show won't die because, as a format, it has the potential to be endlessly entertaining. And in MTV's creation, they are pitting nine children of MTV icons against each other for a recording contract and a cool $100,000 in cash.

Another thing this show brings to the table is the return of at least part of the house band of CBS' RockStar, the best television studio band in existence until you prove me wrong. These cats can flat-out play.

But is the competitive talent any good?

Uh, not really. But there's some limited potential.

Take Jesse Blaze Snider, the son of Twisted Sister's Dee Snider. Unlike his competitors, Jesse grew up in a fairly modest home given that Dee blew most of his rock-n-roll money. And also unlike his competitors, he seems born to perform, one way or another. Not sure it's music, but it could be. Just can't tell yet.

Take this video from his band Baptized By Fire or BXF for short.

It's not the worst thing I've ever heard, and while he butchered a Led Zeppelin song his first week of the competition, he did Rebel Yell pretty darned well this week. However, the props might go mostly to the band, who has previous experience rocking out to the Billy Idol classic, as done by Lukas Rossi.

Nevertheless, it's not the potential winners of Rock The Cradle who provide interest, it's those celebuspawns who have no business being on the stage. Take Chloe Lattanzi, the daughter of Olivia Newton-John.

In this New York Times article, Chloe bemoans the fact that she grew up spending a lot of time alone in big houses. Part of the voyeuristic cheap-thrill we get from Rock The Cradle is in seeing what miserable lives (sarcasm intended, at least partly) these kids have lived.

After merely two episodes, I have to think Snider is the favorite to win out, although Lucy Walsh and Crosby Loggins -- the kids of Joe Walsh and Kenny Loggins -- aren't half bad. I have to admit, given that I'm a huge fan of Kenny, I'm rooting for Crosby.

But for judges like Larry Rudolph, who managed Britney Spears at the height of her career, Crosby is a bit too singer-songwriterish for him. What's crazy is how much he looks like his dad.

While I didn't think much of Jesse Money musically, neither did the voting public. She was the show's first elimination last Thursday. However, what I didn't realize until watching this YouTube video is what a body she has. Six-pack abs. And, uh, other assets.

Hey, I can't imagine how producers would be able to make this show a once-a-season type of event. It seems to me that the resources available, given that they require contestants to be able to sing at least a dab and be the children of famous musical icons, would be limited.

But what do I know?

Considering I left home for college in 1988, perhaps I was too young to appreciate R.E.M.'s really hip days, such as when "Fables of the Reconstruction" came out in 1985.

I was never the guy who dressed up in the funny Benny and Joon hat, who fancied himself the lost, thoughtful drama student, the Andrew McCarthy of a generation. However, I like quality music, quality writing, worthy art.

It's not so much that I like it, it's that I appreciate it. I liked Fergie's "London Bridge" two years ago. I liked that funny guy on YouTube (Tay Zonday) who sang "Chocolate Rain."

But I appreciate R.E.M. -- and in the group's new CD, "Accelerate", I really appreciate that they haven't forgotten how to rock like a college band.

A lot of times when I stay over at Toad and Joey's, I watch videos on the OU channel in my room. Yes, I have a room. LOL. I think it's something put together by MTV U, but all I know is that it's on super late at night.

It's a shame I can never really remember what I watch on it because the music is really good. Alas, R.E.M.'s latest effort is a musical essay on just how good the indie music scene was back in the day because it sounds like vintage R.E.M.

Personally, I think "Accelerate" is the early favorite for Album of the Year, high praise from a listener who doesn't fancy himself a fan of Michael Stipe and his bandmates.

However, listening to "Accelerate," I realized just what I fan I actually am by thinking back to earlier work. "The One I Love," "It's The End of the World As We Know It," "Man On The Moon" and "What's the Frequency, Kenneth?" are four of my favorite songs of the past 25 years.

"Accelerate," is certainly more edgy than the band's most successful pop hits like "Losing My Religion." More guitar. More gruff. More like what the band did in the early 1990s, but less artsy than their 1980s work.

Unfortunately, the best of this CD is in its first three songs, by a mile. Not that the rest of the disc is bad, just that the first three songs -- "Living Well Is The Best Revenge," "Man-Sized Wreath" and "Supernatural Superserious" -- are super strong.

The latter of that trio is the song of the entire album.

Tracks like "Hollow Man," and "Mr. Richards" could grow on me rather quickly, but the true beauty of this CD is that it serves as a reminder to up-and-coming bands, the college bands of the day, if you will, that there is beauty in the album as a singular piece of work.

A collection of terrific songs that can stand alone as brilliant is fine, and that's what the current generation of pop and rock artists strive toward. On the other hand, a well-done album is by itself better and more artistically pleasing than the sum of its parts.

And to that end, I have to say R.E.M. hit a homer with this one.

The test to my hypothesis is whether or not one can feel satisfied just listening to the CD's tracks all shuffled up. I can't. I want to hear Track 1, followed by Track 2 and so on. Musically, there is progression there. There is order.

And to THAT end, "Accelerate" serves as a reminder that R.E.M. is not only one of the rockingest bands of a generation, it's also one of the most artistically savvy.

But another note about the band: They are one of the only bands to allow users to embed YouTube videos from their channel. It's crazy that more bands don't let Webizens do this, but -- again -- shows how progressive these cats are.

Here's "Supernatural Superserious," and remember that I told you: Expect R.E.M. to be a big part of the 2009 Grammy Awards.

No, you have not stumbled onto an infomercial Web site, nor is this some pre-built marketing page for a cooking gadget.

My name is Ryan, and I own a GT Xpress 101, a gift from my mum. She got one, too.

If you're not familiar with this bugger, it's a device not too unlike the George Foreman Grill, except that instead of being a grill in terms of surface, the GT Xpress is built with a pair of wells, into which you can put just about anything to cook.

It will fry an egg in two minutes. Scramble one, too.

It makes perfect burritos. You can pour just about anything on top of a biscuit, and out will come a "whatever bake," in just six minutes. You can cook rice and veggies.

You can bake a slice of cake, the perfect dessert solution for a single person, given that normally we'd have to bake the entire cake to enjoy a slice. You can also bake muffins and cook pancakes in a jiff.

OK, just to clarify: I'm not getting a dime from these people. But I'm officially a believer.

If you haven't stumbled onto Cathy Mitchell's television infomercial or haven't heard of this gadget, you are totally missing out on one of the kitchen innovations of the decade. And, I say this for two reasons:

1. The GT Xpress allows you to cook for one or two. Yes, truth is, I'm not that much of a lazy goon. I enjoy cooking. I don't like spending all my hard-earned cash on eating out. However, it's tough to cook for one, well, at least to cook anything worthwhile.

2. The GT Xpress is the easiest thing I have ever had to clean in the kitchen. Seriously. I've used blenders, mixers, juicers, the Foreman grill -- all of which require significant effort to clean.

Cleaning a GT Xpress 101 requires my kind of effort: Grab a wet cloth and wipe out. That's it. Its non-stick surface keeps everything from sticking. It's freaking uncanny.

Now, for the bigger picture as to why I've posted this: The device comes with a recipe book, and customers have the option of subscribing to future recipe books. That's their hook to get the customer into residual spending.

However, we didn't want to do that, ergo, I've decided to post non-recipe-book items to my site in hopes of giving other GT Xpress users ideas. Truth is, with a dab of imagination, you can cook anything on this bad boy.

For example, on Monday night, I made two chicken and black bean burritos.

I took a flour tortilla and spread a light bit of Ranch dressing on it. I added several chunks of Southwestern Grilled Chicken to it and poured drained black beans on top before sprinkling the entire mixture with cheese.

Fold it over. Stick one in each well of the GT Xpress and cook for seven minutes.

Comes out like a champ, and given that I only ate one of them, I have dinner for tomorrow night, too. Or breakfast. Or whatever.

For those who are gluten intolerant (celiacs, for example), I think you could make the tortilla be corn. I'm not sure how well the corn tortilla would do in this device. I haven't tried, but I will at some point.

And if I stumble upon anything else that's worthy of posting, in terms of a GT Xpress recipe, I'll do so right here.

There's only one certainty in life: taxes.

I'm not so sure about the death part yet. My gut hunch is that people around me eventually get tired of my crap and leave.

And I paid mine, but it tore a big hole in my jeans. You want to hear something doubly crazy? I'm going to have to hire a CPA from here on out. Yes, I got some valuable advice from one this tax season, but it only served to make me realize how valuable a CPA can be if you're trying to do business outside your main job.

Alas, it's done, and I'm feeling lighter in the pocket.

However, there is actually another certainty in life: By about this time every year, I get tired of Idol. Tired of the crappy arrangements. The cheesy band. The contestants. All of it.

I still love the drama, but I always have an urge to go listen to a Dylan record after getting my Tuesday night fix. And that fix was in the form of Mariah Carey night.

Argh. I hate Mariah Carey ... but oddly enough, I like many of her songs. Just not her nor her singing them.

And I treadmilled my way through another week of Idol fun and yuks, including an emotional moment when David Cook got high praise from Simon Cowell while Cook's (likely) dying brother sat in the audience with a doctor and nurse on standby.

Sorry. I have a tremendous, tremendous empathy for anybody watching a loved one waste away with anything, particularly cancer. So, I was glad Cook gave an original, romantic movie type of spin to "Always Be My Baby," one Mariah song I really, really like.

The thing with Cook is that he is the whole package, but he's not the best singer by a mile. David Archuleta is, and the kid did it again with When You Believe, a song I think I loathe.

Jason Castro was also at the top of his hazy, lazy game, styling "I Don't Wanna Cry" in his own mellow ways. These three -- the men of Idol -- are safe as can be.

The women will be fighting in a cage match tomorrow night, in pudding, to determine who goes home. I think it'll come down to Syesha Mercado and Brooke White, with Mercado whippin' Brooke's tail. She's so fragile.

But Brooke also sucked tonight. No other way to put it. I felt for her because she started rushing her song, "Hero," midway through because she was botching the vocals. Couldn't stay on pitch.

However, as I told our fair USA Today friend, Bill Keveney, this competition is an exercise in building a fan base. Period. And I think Syesha just doesn't have that base of Idolators, Idolheads, whatever you want to call them, to keep her in the competition.

So, my only prediction is that it will be a female to go home this week. In fact, it's a guarantee, although I would like to make a side prediction that many more "Mariah Carey nights," and I'll be ready to cut myself by the time Idol Season 7 is over.

If you'll recall, I was interviewed for this USA Today cover story back in January.

Well, writer Bill Keveney interviewed me again this past weekend about Michael Johns' exit. It seems the direction of the piece pertained to what a surprise it was that the Aussie was sent packing last week.

Unfortunately, Keveney didn't use our interview, something I'm completely empathetic to given my understanding of how article writing goes. You write a piece, and it flows, and you get what you need, and sometimes you don't have time to put it all in there.

However, count me in as one who was NOT surprised about Michael Johns' elimination. Perhaps that's why our conversation wasn't included in the piece. Regardless, it's another excellent read from Keveney, but in case you're curious as to what I had to say, I'm posting our discussion below:

Q: Are you surprised by Michael's elimination? If so or if not, why?

A: Not shocked, but mildly surprised. Historically, the first singing position -- and he sang first on Tuesday -- is the worst spot producers can give you.

People who don't use DVRs to record the show and don't get home in time for the show miss those first couple of performances, and that hurts when it comes time for voting. Furthermore, I don't think Michael ever developed the fan base one might have thought he would have. I thought he might eek his way into the Top 6 or 5, but Thursday's elimination didn't qualify as a shocker for me.

***

Q: Do you have any theories on why he was eliminated, since some people thought he was one of the favorites?

A: I never once thought he was a favorite, at least once we got to the Top 12. It's been my opinion since the first week of the Top 24 that this competition has been David Archuleta's to lose. He's been the perfect storm for the Idol voting machine: Appeals to tweens and teens, who vote vigorously, and he's not untalented. In fact, the only shocker to me this season would be if Archuleta were eliminated.

I would be willing to bet that, behind the scenes, Idol producers are struggling to keep this season interesting because everything I've seen indicates that this competition is a runaway the likes of which Carrie Underwood pulled off in Season 4.

David Cook would be a mild shocker at this stage, too. However, I think Michael Johns' elimination came at the hands of not only his singing position but at also at the hands of dumb luck. With Idol, it's never an indication of talent where the singers are eliminated, it's a reflection of fan base.

***

Q: In terms of surprising Idol eliminations over the years, where does this rank?

A: I don't believe it's a surprise at all. Johns was a good singer, a nice enough person. However, so was Jennifer Hudson, and she was eliminated in 7th place. Not that I think Johns has that type of career ahead of him, either. I'm actually surprised that anybody might think this a surprise.

In the past couple of weeks, both Syesha Mercado and Kristi Lee Cook have gained momentum with audiences. Perhaps it's that they fill musical niches -- light R&B and country -- or perhaps they have started to resonate with people who vote. And unless she starts to wow America, I fully expect another "favorite," Carly Smithson, to be eliminated in the next couple of weeks.

At the end of the day, an Idol winner is built on the shoulders of a fan base willing to vote week after week regardless of performance. Johns had some good performances and certainly not many bad ones. However, he also had only one great performance, the one during Dolly Parton's week on the show. And, I don't think he ever developed that nationwide fan base required to keep you on the show.

I would compare it to Chris Sligh's elimination in 10th place in Season 6. Chris was a guy many people thought stood a chance to win the whole thing during the audition phase of the program but who lost momentum gradually during the Top 24 part of the show.

I thought of a better comparison: Constantine Maroulis in Season 4. He was marginal in terms of talent, although he actually had a pretty hefty fan base. He had also never sniffed the Bottom 3 and was eliminated in 6th place, before most folks thought he'd go.

***

Q: Have you heard anything from other fans? What are they saying?

A: Haven't heard a thing, and that's what's perhaps most telling. One person said she was sad to see him go but that she had a good idea his days on Idol were numbered. The fact that there isn't major buzz about his elimination, outrage even, is a good indication that this is not a shocker.

In fact, I can tell you all the shockers in Idol history: Tamyra Gray, Jennifer Hudson, LaToya London, Chris Daughtry, Melinda Doolittle. That's it. No other shockers. Some mild surprises, but these are the only instances in which an Idol elimination sparked outrage or debate.

Thoughts? Am I way off base on this one?

Quick weekend update of pop culture ins and outs and personal news and notes from the land of Oklahoma.

Toad, Joey and I hooked up for an evening of conversation, comedy and YouTube. These li'l get togethers are my cathartic escape from work -- not only may day job but my consulting work and blogging and YouTube and everything I'm doing.

And comedy has become our new routine. It began with a guy named Doug Stanhope last week, and I highly, highly recommend this guy. If he comes to town, go see him. This was my favorite routine of his, and I should note that it's not a safe-for-work routine.

And this week, we watched Tommy Tiernan, an Irish comedian who is more of a story teller (and a terrific one at that) than a standard joke slinger. This is a bit he did regarding children, and there are a few f-bombs in there, so I wouldn't recommend it if you're at a place of business.

However, as the nights wear on and conversation goes the way of politics and work and life, we start watching YouTube. I show them all the cool videos I've found, and they show me the ones they've found. It's a clearly educational process within the realm of pop culture until about 2 a.m., when Toad and I are watching this:

Yes, that's the great Ronnie James Dio, and -- yes -- I was a metalhead in high school. That's odd for the type of music I play and write, but I have a wide variety of musical loves. And the entire metal era was not only highly musical, it's totally camp.

Imagine Dio walking into your place of business dressed as he is in the video.

***

One of the aspects of working in the world of online news, given the unpredictability of the news cycle, is that one must learn to multi-task. Not just in the newsroom but at home, particularly if you do work on the side -- and I turned a profit in my first year of managing my online consulting and blogging efforts as a business.

However, I've found that I've become even more of a physical slob than I was in 2007, despite my New Year's resolutions and lofty goals.

Given that I write a ton about television and pop culture, I've adopted a new rule: There will be no watching TV ... without doing something else.

I will hit the treadmill every night while watching Idol, Dancing With The Stars or whatever. I'll iron. I'll fold clothes. I'll pay bills. I'll write. I'll do something.

If I'm eating, I'm working. If I'm pooping, I'm reading.

That's a bit much, yes, but it's an epiphany I've gained from watching one of my favorite YouTube subscriptions: Momo from The Momo Zone.

This Canadian videographer and musician has made it his raison d'etre to help people achieve goals as it pertains to the end product. His channel should be called "How to get stuff done," as opposed to some new age baloney. He offers practical advice regarding achieving creative goals while maintaining a high level of positivity, without going completely mad.

His online work is a veritable tool in my toolset.

***

Now, to ensure that I don't burn out on the treadmill thing, I'm merely walking. I work up a little sweat given that I'm on the bugger for 30 to 45 minutes at a time, every time. However, it's not hard on my muscles or bones. I don't have to take a shower afterward; I merely dab off with a wet towel.

***

I'm working to install Google Analytics on my site to get a better reading of traffic patterns on ryanwelton.com. And I'll be working to add different hostnames to ryanwelton.com such as idol.ryanwelton.com and oufootball.ryanwelton.com.

So, expect a few changes to the site in terms of structure but probably nothing in terms of content. That could be good, or it could be bad depending from where you view the world.

Sometime soon, I'll have to put together my Top 5 songs from one of the best groups of the late 1970s and 1980s -- the Little River Band, or LRB to those in the know.

This particular song was the first I had heard from the group, in about 1981. I had gotten a K-TEL cassette from Wal-Mart, and this was the second song on it. The beauty about the Little River Band is that, truly, they never released anything that was sub-par.

From the classic, "Reminiscing," to their last Top 40 hit, "We Too," everything they did was terrific. So, hopefully, I did this a little justice, although I tricked it up like I normally do. It definitely has the Ryan Welton flava about it, for good or for bad.

We're about to enter the silly season, where NHL and NBA playoffs take us until June. Having been a fan of Dallas teams for so long, this has typically been a frustrating part of the year.

Except for the year the Mavs went to the finals, and that still ended up massively frustrating given the team's collapse. Make that the team's choke.

But because Oklahoma City is about to get its own team (board of governors convene on April 17-18) and because Mark Cuban has done everything in his power to make me personally hate the Mavs, I've got to pick another team to pull for in the playoffs.

Thankfully, it will be easy. Go with the Hornets.

The team that spent two years in Oklahoma City will probably get Dallas in the first round, or at least I'm hoping so. Truthfully, I don't think it's a great matchup for the Hornets, but I would love to see them bring more misery to Cuban.

In spirit, I'll be with the Mavs should they get past that round, but it will be begrudgingly. Besides, once the Sonics move to Oklahoma City, I'm a Sonics man. Or whatever we'll be called.

However, I do hope the New Orleans fans step up and give their club a postseason boost. I know if the Hornets were still playing in OKC, the Ford Center would be packed every night, and it'd be loud.

My early pick for the NBA Finals though is Boston vs. Houston.

***

Everything is clear-cut on the hockey side of things. I'm a Dallas Stars man through and through. And, they've stunned us the past several years by being so limp come playoff time.

And they're stunning us right now by seemingly putting it together at the right time, taking a 2-0 lead over the defending Stanley Cup champs, the Anaheim Ducks.

Look, as much as Dallas loves all its sports, winning the 1999 Stanley Cup is still as fresh a memory as I'll ever have. First, we had struggled with great teams for three seasons to get over the hump. Winning it all in 1999 was as much a relief as it was wonderful.

However, the night we won it all, I was playing a gig -- a gig nobody came to because we didn't have the Stars game on. As Game 6 between Buffalo and Dallas went into overtime and then a second overtime and then a third overtime, we put down our instruments and went outside, where we listened to the game on a car radio.

And at 12:35 a.m. or so on a Sunday morning in 1999, with 5:09 left in the third overtime, Brett Hull hit a shot that sent Dallas into all-night party mode. You might think hockey is wasted on Texans or on is Southerners in general. And, you'd think wrong.

This was a big, big deal for the city. And it would be a big, big deal again, although this time it would be a shock.

For those of you who don't have time to read about the OU spring game in depth, I'll give you the short version: Defense was terrific, but who knows what that means?

Dominique Franks, Jonathan Nelson and Frank Alexander each returned oskies for scores. Of course, in a game where the OU defense plays the OU offense, the D has somewhat of an advantage given how well they know the O.

However, the funniest stat of the game was that the one touchdown the offense did score was from a play called by a fan. Shae Farmer won an auction to get the honor, and the play he called resulted in a 51-yard touchdown pass to Jermaine Gresham.

I didn't see the play, so I'm not sure if it was a deep out, a short pass that resulted in a long run, a trick play or what. However, the fact that it was a fan's call that resulted in the game's only offensive touchdown gives at least a little credence to the notion that we fans aren't total idiots.

I've always been of the opinion that play-calling is more of an art than a science. For the Sooners though, there are a few elements of the offense that should produce some scientific truths.

• OU has to throw to Gresham. Three balls a game ain't going to do it.


• OU needs to wear DeMarco Murray out. Runs, short passes, deep outs, kickoff returns. Everything. We're doing something wrong if Murray isn't a serious Heisman candidate this year.


• OU should trick up its playbook to the extent that Gresham and Murray get the ball in unconventional sets. End-arounds. Murray lined up at quarterback.

And it's the last point that brings me back to the fan who called this play. I don't know whether he was a 12-year-old kid or a 54-year-old accountant. However, I truly believe OU should hold a video game contest among fans to find the best PlayStation college football player in the state.

Find the best player in the country, if possible.

And then hire him as a consultant to the offensive coordinator. I'm deadly serious about this. Having worked in the information technology industry for more than a decade, I've seen how video games have become wonderful tools for instruction at major companies.

Video games have been used to teach employees about company policy, about processes -- and they have also been used to provoke conversation and ideas regarding the overall business. And in this way, I truly believe OU could innovate by utilizing commercially available video games to improve its offense.

Heck, if nothing else, maybe this Farmer cat has a future in college football. Play calling isn't as easy as he made it, but play calling is also not as difficult, I believe, as coaches would like you to believe.

It's all about creativity, diversion and keeping a defense guessing. Like I said before, it's way more art than science.

If you'll recall the crazy time that was the Mike Gundy rant, back in September, you'll recall I had written a pretty scathing piece only to remove it. There's some conflict of interest there when the story is hot and heavy and you work for a major media organization, which I do.

But you'll recall that my take was that Gundy's rant was embarrassing and that Jenni Carlson's piece in The Oklahoman had some major holes. However, nobody had really considered that the entire situation -- the column, the rant -- all centered around a 22-year-old kid, Bobby Reid.

And if you don't read anything else today, you have to check out Tom Friend's piece on espn.com about Reid.

It's a massive indictment on Gundy and the OSU program. This piece will be the talk of Oklahoma sports radio on Monday.

What we never knew all this time is that Bobby Reid himself was put out by the very rant that was supposedly defending him. He was offended.

Reid has transferred to Texas Southern University in Houston, and the article paints him as a good kid with a depression issue, but it paints Gundy as a thoughtless, hyperactive jock. Not my opinion, just how the article painted the picture. Reid's family believes there is a good possibility that Gundy or one of his assistants leaked information to Carlson for the story, that in fact his rant was fake.

I doubt there was any second shooter at the grassy knoll, but his transfer and this situation will linger in Stillwater for as long as Mike Gundy is coach there. I don't want to suggest that this year might be his last; however, columns like this one on espn.com make me think he'll be on pretty thin ice in 2008.

There is some basis for this. I was told by an extremely reliable source (Well, it's somebody who has an in: Take it for what you will.) as early as after the Troy game last year that T. Boone Pickens had made it known that the university needed to start looking beyond Gundy, that there were efforts under way to have him replaced, possibly mid-season.

The coach and his team though ended the season on a high note and a bowl win, and probably most important for Gundy, his rant after the Texas Tech game gave him this cultish popularity across the Sooner State. Even if Mike Holder and Pickens wanted to remove Gundy, they weren't going to be able to after that YouTube moment.

You think Sean Sutton and the OSU basketball coaching situation was drama this year? Just watch what happens if the Pokes drop what should be an easy win at the start of football season.

Gundy might have to pull out an "I'm a man. I'm 41 ..." moment.